Morgause Watches
by Oceans in Hand
Summary: Morgause is watching her sister's progress through the haunted Black Wood. The openly hostile servant boy had been made to stay with the animals.


**Morgause Watches**

Morgause is watching her sister's progress through the haunted Black Wood. The picture in her small, palm-sized crystal is hazy and unclear, as her talents do not typically stretch to include scrying. The full moon lends power to her, as it does to the ghosts of the Wood, which have been feed the prince's blood and now follow his trail.

Morgana had gone along with Uther's son to ensure that this attempt was the one to succeed—that there would be no more mysterious failures. Morgause watches her slender, watery form follow behind Arthur's, the pair's horses having being left at the treeline.

The openly hostile servant boy _had_ been made to stay with the animals, but Morgause can see flickers of darkness at the edges of the crystal that she is certain are him, shadowing the others. Not for the first time, she wonders at the strangeness of this boy, recalls his confidence and his unwavering loyalty; Morgana's report of his impossible escape.

The memories send a barely noticeable chill down Morgause's spine. There is something decidedly odd about the servant boy; every foiled scheme only hardens her certainty.

If Arthur is not torn to ragged pieces by this moon's set, Morgause thinks they may shift the focus of their plots to the boy; to banish bothersome superstition, if nothing else.

In her crystal, Morgana darts a discrete look over her shoulder. Morgause can tell she is fighting her fear; her sister had not been happy with the prospect of invoking such powerful, unpredictable wraths. She worries for her own safety, though of course she shouldn't.

Morgause is watching, very carefully.

The cool mist that is the ghosts of the Black Wood begins to seep between the trees, seeming to originate from everywhere. Morgana spots it, and shies away when it curls around her ankles, passing her over. Morgause watches with barely contained excitement, trembling with it as she is faced once again with the vision of her dear sister as Queen—and her joy is gone again, leaving her frightfully empty, as her eyes snap after a fast flash of gold.

Gold, from the area of the Wood where the servant boy lurks, watching her Morgana with hatred and distrust. Gold, Morgause thinks. She feels her heart plummet as the mist suddenly pulls away, recoiling from Arthur as if drawn by undeniable force…

Her eyes return to the servant.

What if, Morgause thinks. What if the servant boy's disconcerting assuredness is birthed by the confidence of a warlock? What if Prince Arthur of Camelot is protected, as well as by his men, his father, his own undisputable skills, by a sorcerer? Uther has certainly shown himself to be capable of defying his own most elevated creed.

Any sorcerer retained by that man would be disgustingly powerful, Morgause is sure, tendrils of cold curling in her belly as the Prince and her sister continue to walk, and as the spirits make an obvious retreat.

If the boy—_Merlin_, she allows—if Merlin, if Arthur's manservant were a sorcerer, it would explain very much. His insight concerning Morgana's position as the anchor of Morgause's sleep spell. The consistent failure of careful plans which she had been certain no one would have the knowledge, or the power to halt.

Morgause feels an inexplicable, birdlike panic working through her, thickening her throat. If Merlin is a sorcerer.

She looks back to the crystal and sees the sorcerer trip, fall, and alert the prince and Morgana to his presence. She watches as they both double back, and Arthur pulls the servant roughly to his feet, scolding him.

Her worry blinks away like a candle flame, and suddenly Morgause is almost bashful. No, not that foolish boy, with leaves in his clothing and scratches on his face. He could not be a sorcerer; such a ridiculous thought.

Arthur retrieves the night flower for the king's remedy, and they all three pass through the Wood unharmed. The spirits moan in furious hunger, but do not try again for Arthur's meat. Morgana is plainly frustrated, while Arthur enjoys the amusement his flustered and nervous servant provides. They mount their horses; Morgause expects they will reach Camelot by dawn.

* * *

**I want Morgause and Morgana to find out about Merlin's magic more than I do Arthur *whines* So, so badly!**

**-Oceans**


End file.
